Out of Control
by Mr.Carl Clover
Summary: This takes place during the Orochi Saga ark. With the bloodline of the Orochi swelling up within Leona Heidern and Iori Yagami, they find themselves being tormented to the point of breaking. Will they learn to control it or fall into darkness.
1. Chapter 1

Out of Control

A King of Fighters Fan-Fiction

By: Mr. Carl Clover

(Note: This story takes place during the Orochi Saga story ark. Paragraphs within ( )s are flashback text)

Chapter1: Forgotten Memories

"Sir, there was nothing out of the ordinary to report from our mission. All occurrences have been documented in my report as well as the reports written up from Ralf and Clark," Leona delivered to Heidern with a firm salute. Heidern removed the report from Leona's cold hands. He opened the envelope discretely, taking note of everything in the reports. Heidern returned to the chair from behind his desk, laying is elbows on the table to use his hands as a cradling tool for his head.

"That will be all. At ease Leona. You are worrying me though, you don't look like you've been eating too well. Is everything alright?" Heidern asked in concern. Having been the caretaker for Leona ever since her "incidence" with her family, he's learn to feel emotions for her and that made him feel like a father. Leona's cold, calculating eyes dug into Heidern's, his words stinging her ears. Her eyes narrowed painful towards the top of Heidern's deck instead of back into his eyes, admitting defeat to the truth of his words.

"I...have not eaten in the past 24 hours. I haven't slept in the past 48 hours. Lately...I've found myself thinking about my old life, my old parents, my older everything." Leona spoke with a pause, moving her hands up so that they were caught in her vision. She then removed her eyes from her hands and locked them onto to Heidern's once more.

"That is all that I have to report. I believe I should eat so that I won't make you worry any longer. Excuse me sir," she addressed. As her final words left her lips, her back was turned to Heidern, slowly inching away until she appeared before him no more. Heidern closed his tired eyes, remembering the horrors of that one night.

("Sir! We found a survivor!" announced Will. He was under Heidern's command as part of a search and rescue division. Heidern gave a subtle nod and followed him hastily. When they arrived at what was left of the house in question, Will turned back to Heidern.

("Fair warning sir, you may want to watch your steps," Will spoke cautiously. As the door creaked open, all that could be seen was furniture that had been torn a sunder, as if it were jammed into a paper shredder. Among the debris were pools upon pools of blood, drenching the floor and covered the walls with various shapes and sizes of splattering. Will held his nose as he made his way through while Heidern was un-phased, it would take the seventh level of hell to get a reaction out of him. Will stood to the side of the next door to their right, signaling that that was where the survivor had been placed. Heidern opened the door and to his surprise, it was just a young girl. Her hair looked like a blue bush, her eyes cold and disturbed. She had various spats of blood all over her, making her appear to be the daughter of Satan. Will followed him into the room, looking all over it.)

("One of our men found her wandering around the village, all the other houses are just as messy as this one, blood soiling all of them. It's a miracle that this little girl is alive," Will said. Heidern slowly walked towards the girl and knelt before her, his eyes slowly catching hers. She gazed to him lifelessly, clinging to the blanket that the unit had supplied to her.)

("What happened here?" Heidern asked. The girl grimaced and her cold dead eyes lowered back to the floor, her body still shaking from the shock.)

("Who...am I?" the girl murmured. Heidern gazed over her, placing his hand upon her chin. He slowly and carefully moved her head around, to take a gander at any scars she may have. He moved until he finally found one. A deep gash just below her jawline along the left side of her neck. Being an expert on the appearances of wounds, Heidern came to the conclusion that it was a knife that sliced into her. He released his hand from her chin, her head slowly lowering back down to gaze at the floor.)

("She is to be put under my care, see to it that she makes her way safely to my quarters on the air ship," Heidern instructed Will. Will gave a nod, and with that, the memory faded away.)

Leona brushed her hand along the wall to her right. Her mind caught in a void of thought, trying to get through to her clouded past. With every step, another attempt to access to those memories was shut down by the cloudy wall in her mind. She snapped out of it as she walked through a pair of doors with the words "Mess Hall" on them. The appearance of the room was contrary to the name of the room itself. It was pristine, cleaned from floor to ceiling, that's military for you. She walked over to one of the empty tables near the beginning of the line, laying her head down to rest as she waited for the line to go down, she wasn't one to want to stand for long periods unless ordered to. It wasn't long until a familiar voice graced her ears followed by a tray of food being thoughtfully placed in front of her. She arose her head from her arms and saw the ever cheerful Ralf standing over her. She smiled vaguely up into Ralf's face, making him smile right back.

"You look awful Leona, what the hell's been going on with you? I haven't seen you since we got back two days ago," Ralf asked. Leona shrugged and took a sigh as she looked at the food in front of her. It was all of her favorites. Salisbury steak drizzled lightly with gravy, two small boxes of 2% milk and a slice of cheesecake.

"Heidern asked me to get it for you, he said you're really down about your past. You haven't had that problem in like what, 2 years? So what's bringing it back up?" Ralf interrogated. IT wasn't Ralf's nature to be so concerned but over the years, he, Clark and Leona all slowly became like a family instead of just comrades. Leona shook her head as she slipped a fork into her cheesecake, slowly slipped a bit from the cake. She gazed at the piece as if it were a piece of her mind that had been missing.

"Lately I've been having these nightmares when I sleep, things that make my stomach churn and induce vomiting episodes. " Leona said slowly slipping the delicious pieces of heaven into her mouth. Ralf cocked his eyebrow, sporting a somewhat disgusted face from Leona's literal analysis. If that didn't come out of Leona's mouth, she wouldn't be Leona. Leona enjoyed her bite of cheesecake and eventually vaguely enjoyed her meal. When she finished, she arose to her feet and began waddling to her bunk, like a zombie. Once again, while walking through the halls, her fingers ran over the texture of the wall, trying once again to grab a hold of any old memories. When she finally reached her bunk, she began to slowly strip down. With each article of clothing shed, her body showed it's real form; her well endowed chest stuck to her black undershirt that she had worn underneath her uniform; She slipped out of her uniform pants and into short-shorts, her most comfortable piece of clothing she owned. With that she fell onto her bed, exhausted and fatigued. She repositioned herself and slid underneath her sheets. With a click of her side table lamp, she was engulfed in darkness.

To Be Continued...


	2. Chapter 2

(I have no affiliations with SNK Playmore)

Chapter 2: Inner Demons

Darkness filled the surrounding area. All that could be seen among the muck of nothingness was the ground in which he walked upon and a light far off into the distance. With a great daze being written on his face, Iori Yagami tredged slowly trudged towards the light. Every step clicked and clacked, echoing all around him; with every inch towards, his steps began to grow heavier and heavier until finally he couldn't move. Iori didn't panic however, no, he just hazily watched the light as it began to disappear. It seemed like an eternity that he stood there, the only thing that gave him a sense of existence was that light that shined so very far away. All of a sudden, the light was snuffed out, leaving him in complete darkness. He looked around cautiously, but saw nothing but an eternity of black, as if he were dead, buried in the ground. Then...there was a bright red flash, it temporarily lit up the area in which he stood. From what he could see in the split second of light, were piles of bodies and puddles of blood, both of which paved the floor. Iori's eyes screamed open, as if punched by bullets in his chest. He began to hear sounds, eerie yells and shrieks that blistered his ears and mind, causing his eyes to lock shut to help make them go away. Even with his eye shut however, he saw an entity hovering ever closer. He tried to move, but yet again with every step, it was as if he were slowly being devoured by quick sand. With an agonizing gaze to the sky, he felt his body sink into the dark abyss beneath him. As he gasped and reached up to try and grasp any sort of ledge, his eyes were once again forced open. All he could see above him were glowing yellow eyes and the outline of a mouth. He began to squint as hard as he could as he continued to descend, trying to make out what exactly was there, smiling and cackling above him. With his eyes squinted, the face eventually vanished, and Iori began to feel the drop of air and gravity, dragging him down further without any sort of grasp or concept of how it was possible. Then **CRACK! **Iori's breath was taken away as his fall was pillowed with a pile of bones and a pool of blood. As he met the floor the feeling of water crashed over his face and body, his back making several popping and snapping noises until Iori could move no more. He began gasping, trying to breath and speak to yell out cries of agony, but no words came out, not even the gasps of air. Iori felt his body grow numb. Unable to breath and unable move, Iori's eyes filled with tears as the face reappeared in an instant right in front of his face. Iori's eyes shot open in horror as he realize...the face was his own. It's teeth were crudely formed into a twisted, toothy smile; the faces eyes were open as wide as possibly, the pupils as small as a pin prick and the color of them glowing vibrant, blinding yellow. The mouth slowly opened, and with it, came cackles and laughter, both drilling holes into Iori's ears as he couldn't move. Then, inside the mouth, Iori's eyes grew blank with tears and insanity as the image formed into the shape of Kyo Kusanagi's head. Unable to be seen, but the outline was very clear.

An insane cry from a sadistic man rang through the air, echoing in the surrounding area within the alleyway. Iori's eyes were ripped open from the dream, his body drenched in sweat, shaking and trembling as he attempted to move. He felt his breath finally come from his mouth and through his body, he was very alive. His eyes were shrink wrapped in tears until he arose his body, causing them the burst and shower the ground. His gasps were desperate and his fists were clenched so tight that blood trickled through his fingers and met with a puddle of water beneath him. Once Iori realized that he was not dead, he finally began to grab a grasp of his surroundings. He slowly rose to his feet; his bed being composed of nothing but soaked cardboard and dirty clothes apparently was more comfortable than it let on. He took in a deep breath and shut his. He held that breath for a seemingly infinite amount of seconds until finally it was calmly released back into its home in the sky. His eyes slowly arose to face forward. With a rumble in his stomach and a guitar now placed upon his back, Iori was finally ready to face the day. He crammed his hands into his pockets as he walked through the street.

The streets were surprisingly busy at this time of day, mostly tourists and patrons going to work passed by as he slowly trounced his way to his first destination. There wasn't a single thought in his head nor words to be said, he was once again alone in his own world. A heavy sigh filled the air as he locked eyes with a bench that hugged a wall that was between a coffee shop and a laundromat. He removed his guitar case from his back and laid it flat on the bench. He removed the jacket he had been wearing while he slumbered. Having no blanket and no home meant that he had dress in layers to survive each night. As the jacket clung to the back of the bench, his trademark outfit was finally able to breathe the morning air. Slowly he unzipped the guitar case, unsheathing his signature flying-V guitar. He removed a pick from his pocket and placed it between his teeth as he began to tune the electric instrument. It was almost zen-like to Iori every time he would release his guitar from its slumber to be tuned and played, because it reminded him that he was still human. As he was about to place his pick to the gleaming silver strings of his guitar, a man's shadow overtook his body. Iori paused and laid his hand to the bench. The blood coursing through Iori's body began to slowly boil, making his body feel hot as he rose his eyes up. It was the eyes of one Yashiro Nanakase. Iori shrugged then returned to his guitar, tuning it once again.

"Aren'tcha even going to say hello? Or are you still salty about my band beating you into the ground during the battle of the mic contest over at Red Sky?" Yashiro spoke, his words stinging Iori's ears, not the best thing to do so early in the morning. Iori ignored the taunt and slowly began playing to himself. Yashiro scratched his head walked past him to sit on the bench beside him. Yashiro slid the guitar case off the bench, making it crash onto the ground. Iori's hand trembled as he sprung a note, his irritation slowly rising.

"Oh come on Yagami, we musicians need to stick together right? Right?" Yashiro taunted once more smacking Iori on the back. Yashiro was usually a bit of an ass when it came to messing with someone, he just loved getting into fights. Iori clenched his teeth together like molded steel, trying once again to ignore him, knowing that it would probably be in vain. The loud click clacking of shoes vibrated the pavement as Shermie made her way over to Yashiro and Iori.

"Oi, it iz miseur Iori! Bonjour!" Shermie said. It was Iori's understanding that Shermie enjoyed to speak in French from time to time to try to charm men around her, however, Iori was not amused. Finally, Iori shrugged and leaned his guitar against the wall that the bench hugged closely. He then stood up and locked eyes with Yashiro.

"Don't feed me your bullshit...I know you are just trying to get me to join your creepy ass cult just because I have the orochi power. If I were you, I'd get the smug ass face out of my site before I'm forced to smash it..." Iori spoke. Shermie gasped and covered her mouth. A clever smirk crawled across Yashiro's face as he then stood to face Iori; his eyes looked as if they were ready to tear him to pieces. Shermie then shrugged and got in Yashiro's face, she hated when he acted like "".

"Yashiro, we have other business to attend to, we should probably stop bothering him, after all we have somewhere to be, or did you forget?" Shermie said turning her face to Yashiro. Beneath Shermie's thick bangs were a pair of eyes that could piece the heart of any man. Yashiro, stil with his big smile shrugged his shoulders and rose up his arms"

"Yeah yeah I know, I guess we'll get going then. Hey Yagami, try not to get your face smashed in before I have a chance at it, it'd be a shame if you went up on stage looking like a retard and I wasn't the one to make your face that way!" Yashiro chimed in innocently, obviously mocking Iori. Iori growled and grit his teeth as his breath was taken from him. The boiling blood that he had been holding back began to burn, slowly changing his bodies feeling. Iori clenched his hands tightly until blood came from them, which eventually subsided the riots urge. He took a very heavy breath and returned to the bench. As he placed his hands upon his face, the images of the dream began to haunt the vision of his closed eyes, as if it were trying to tell him something, as if, reminding him that at any time he could lose control, reminding him, that he was a slave to his own power...

To Be Continued...


End file.
